


Fallen Dandelion

by brevitas



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: College AU, Fake Boyfriend AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-07
Updated: 2014-10-20
Packaged: 2018-01-07 19:42:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1123651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brevitas/pseuds/brevitas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras' parents want him to find a boyfriend already. Enjolras has little interest in that. Courfeyrac suggests a fake boyfriend and a seed is planted.</p>
<p>Or, in which Enjolras asks Grantaire to pretend to be his boyfriend so his parents will leave him alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It began rather suddenly on a Monday morning. 

“My parents won’t leave me be,” Enjolras said. His complaint broke the silence in the room and prompted both Courfeyrac and Combeferre to turn and look at him like inquisitive dogs. Neither had to speak to elicit an explanation; Enjolras knew them much better than that. 

“My mother is desperately worried I’ll be alone forever,” he continued dryly, “And my father, though he would never say so aloud, agrees.” 

Courfeyrac licked doughnut frosting off his fingers with an amused grin. “Maybe you should get a pretend boyfriend,” he suggested. Enjolras’ parents were well-aware of their son’s preference for boys, and it had never stopped them from encouraging Enjolras to settle down with a nice lad. “Like, some gentleman caller that would keep them off your back.”

Enjolras canted his head and considered this. His mouth narrowed so Combeferre knew his friend was giving it serious thought.

“You would want to be judicious in who you chose, of course,” Combeferre warned, glancing back down at his laptop. He was halfway through an assignment due that Wednesday, though he saved and minimized it in favor of speaking to Enjolras. “Not everyone would be eager to take part in a fake relationship.” 

“True,” Enjolras allowed. He drummed his fingers against the table. “Perhaps I should ask Grantaire then.” 

For a moment the room was silent. Combeferre and Courfeyrac both stared at Enjolras and looked so taken aback that Enjolras added almost defensively, “He always says he would do whatever I asked of him, and he’s been single for some time. A relationship with me would be stabilizing at least.” 

Courfeyrac’s mouth clicked close. “Enjolras,” he said plaintively. “Just... don’t. Not Grantaire.”

Enjolras frowned at him and Combeferre nodded to affirm his support. “Pick someone else,” he recommended. “Maybe a different friend?" 

Enjolras frown deepened. “Why not Grantaire?” He asked. In light of his friends’ dramatic response his curiosity was piqued. “You don’t think he would agree to it?”

Courfeyrac and Combeferre exchanged a loaded look. “No,” Courfeyrac said finally. “He’d definitely say yes.”

“Then why?”

Combeferre cleared his throat and turned entirely to face Enjolras. He couldn’t very well tell his friend the truth, so he lied. “Grantaire was thinking of asking Sherry from one of his art classes out,” he said smoothly. “A fake relationship would hinder that somewhat.”

Enjolras smiled. “Ah,” he said. “That’s sensible. I’ll pick someone else then.”

Combeferre nodded and returned to his essay a moment later. Courfeyrac picked up a second doughnut. Although Enjolras said nothing to either his suspicions remained, and he decided he would ask Grantaire that evening what Combeferre and Courfeyrac hadn’t said. Perhaps Grantaire would give him a straight answer. The boys went back to their homework and even though Courfeyrac kept throwing out names Grantaire remained at the forefront of Enjolras’ mind.

+++++ 

Grantaire’s last class finished at nine so Enjolras walked to his dorm to wait for him. Grantaire lived in a hall adjacent to the ones most of his friends inhabited, though he’d never complained about not living with the rest of them. His roommate was Jehan, who did.

It was October and just starting to get cold so Enjolras was understandably cross at Grantaire when he didn’t show up right away. He waited another five minutes, chafing his arms under the long sleeves of his red sweater, and when still Grantaire didn’t come ambling up he pulled out his phone. He scrolled down to Jehan’s name first and keyed in, ‘ _Are you home?_ ’. 

Jehan’s answer trilled a minute later. ‘ _no, class_ _sorry :('_. Enjolras sighed. 

He went further down the names and found Grantaire’s. Their past communications were few and far between; the last text Enjolras had received from him had been over a month ago. He noticed with a slight frown that he’d never texted back. 

‘ _Are you coming back to your dorm anytime soon?'_  he sent. 

It took a moment to get a reply. ‘ _no_ ’, Grantaire replied. ‘ _why?'_  came a second later. 

Enjolras exhaled through his nose. _‘I need to speak with you'_ , he wrote. ‘ _Where are you? I’ll come to you.'_  

‘ _never fear apollo'_ , Grantaire replied. ‘ _i’m on my way. b there in 5 :)'_. 

Grantaire was true to his word. Enjolras had stuffed his hands back in his pockets when Grantaire came trundling up the sidewalk. He was dressed much warmer than Enjolras was, wearing a big green sweater that dwarfed him and a scarf that Enjolras knew Jehan had knitted for him last Christmas. 

“Hey, Apollo,” he said as he came up beside him. He waved his card in front of the door and pulled it open when it clicked, held it so Enjolras could walk inside first. “What’s up?”

Enjolras followed Grantaire up the stairs, sparing a moment to decide how best to phrase this. Courfeyrac never tired of reminding his friend how absolutely tactless he was. 

“My parents are enamored with the idea of me finding a boyfriend,” Enjolras began, “So I think I’m going to do that.” He didn’t notice the sudden tension in Grantaire’s shoulders or the breath he expelled like he’d been punched in the gut. “However,” he said, looking askance at Grantaire. “I don’t have any desire for a real boyfriend, and then Courfeyrac came up with the idea that I find a fake one.”

Grantaire chuckled wanly. They stepped out of the stairwell and he led the way down to his room. “That’s actually pretty smart,” he said as he pulled his key out. “It’d leave you free to keep pursuing your Patria, at least.”

Enjolras made a face. His friends loved referring to his revolutionary tendencies as having an affair with Patria and he was not nearly as fond of the saying as they were. He followed Grantaire inside, hovered by the door while Grantaire wandered through turning on lights. He turned back around a moment later, one dark eyebrow lifted high. “Aren’t you gonna sit down?” He asked. Reluctantly Enjolras trailed after him. 

Apparently Jehan and Grantaire preferred spending time in their room over the common room, as one of them had rearranged all the furniture and shoved a sofa up against the newly freed wall. Grantaire sat down on one end and Enjolras perched on the armrest of the other.

Grantaire shrugged his messenger bag off and dropped it by his feet, then scratched at his stubble while Enjolras stared at the far wall. “So did you stop by just to tell me you were gonna get a fake boyfriend?” He asked, set his hands in his lap. 

Enjolras turned to look at him. “No,” he said, meeting Grantaire’s blue eyes steadily. “I came to ask if you would be interested in being my fake boyfriend.” 

Grantaire blinked at him. The silence stretched between them like something palpable and Enjolras’ mouth ticked into a frown. “Combeferre mentioned that you were thinking about asking a woman named Sherry out?” He said. “Obviously I would choose someone else if you were still pursuing that.”

“Sherry?” Grantaire repeated. He looked confused and then suddenly everything clicked into place; Combeferre had lied so Enjolras wouldn’t ask him. He laughed and twisted his fingers together. “No,” he said. “I decided I wasn’t interested.”

“Good,” Enjolras said, pleased. “Then what do you think of my proposition?”

Enjolras’ fake boyfriend. It was a fucked-up bastardization of the dream Grantaire had been cradling for five semesters, that one day Enjolras might be romantically interested, but it was also the closest he’d ever come. It took him all of about twenty seconds to come to a decision.

“Sure,” he said, nodding. He grinned, leaned back into his davenport bonelessly. “I’ll be your fake boyfriend, Apollo.”

Enjolras smiled. “Good,” he said again. He stood up and straightened his sweater. “I’ll text you tomorrow with a plan,” he said. “If all goes well I’ll have you over to meet my parents before November.”

Grantaire nodded though he remained sitting. Enjolras walked over to the door with a distracted smile that Grantaire was very familiar with; it meant gears were working under that crown of glorious golden hair. Gears of how to train Grantaire to be a good boyfriend, no doubt. 

“Well,” Enjolras said as he pulled the door open. He turned to momentarily face Grantaire. “I’ll talk to you then.”

“See ya, Apollo,” he said as the door clicked shut. Grantaire sat in the silence for a while, listened to the door to the stairs open and close and when he could no longer hear Enjolras’ departure, stood and walked to his closet. He got up on the toes of his boots and coaxed a liquor bottle down from behind a picture frame, pulled his phone out of his pocket as he carried it over to the bed. 

‘ _i’m apollo’s fake boyfriend now_ ’, he texted Jehan as he put his legs up underneath him. ‘ _i’m also gonna get drunk._ _no class tomorrow'_.

Jehan's reply arrived immediately. ‘ _wait until I get home. I’m ten minutes ou_ _t and we’re going to talk about this'_.

Grantaire groaned and laid back. He put his phone down beside him and couldn’t help a dopey smile. Enjolras’ boyfriend. Fake or not, it was a lot further than he had ever hoped to get before.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enjolras and Grantaire meet so they can exchange information. Enjolras is surprised when Grantaire knows more about him then he ever would have figured.

For the next few days things continued as they had been before. Enjolras emailed Grantaire a spreadsheet he’d made in Excel for ‘time management’ purposes; it was a coalition of both their schedules, including time for extracurricular activities, classes, and assignments. Enjolras was swamped with homework until Thursday, though he’d scheduled them for a lunch then. For the most part Grantaire just tried not to think about it and went about his business.

The news spread through their friends like an STD. Suddenly everyone was texting Grantaire, asking how he was doing, how he felt. He knew it was Jehan’s doing and ignored most of them, replied to the ones that seemed the most genuine. Combeferre didn’t bother asking about feelings. All he sent was a message that read ‘ _Don’t do this to yourself’_. That one Grantaire deleted.

When Thursday came around Grantaire carried his laptop to the SUB with him. He identified Enjolras easily; the blonde was bent over a textbook, knees drawn to his chest, a few thick golden curls falling across his face. Grantaire took a deep breath and was grinning by the time he stopped in front of him and Enjolras finally noticed he was there.

“Grantaire,” he greeted, put an assignment in the textbook so it would keep his place. “How are you?”

“Fine.” Grantaire took a seat next to him and dropped his messenger bag. “You?”

Enjolras smiled. “Good,” he said, bent over and retrieved his laptop from his backpack. He pulled open a new spreadsheet that had been organized like a questionnaire, columns divided up into likes and dislikes and the rows listing all sorts of things: colors, childhood memory, food, dessert, animal, family member, pet and on and on. Half of the page was titled ‘ENJOLRAS’, the other half ‘GRANTAIRE’. Enjolras’ side was already completed, neat staccato answers filling in every box.

“We’ll record our answers here,” Enjolras explained as Grantaire leaned over to see better, “And use it as a reference. We can print them out and quiz each other so you’ll know how to answer my parents’ questions.”

Grantaire laughed, resettled against the couch. “Sure,” he said. “This plan kinda sounds like every romcom I’ve ever seen so that means it can _only_ be a good idea.”

Enjolras smiled without looking up. Before Grantaire had the chance to tease him about his secret love of romantic comedies Enjolras asked, “Favorite color?”

“Red,” Grantaire answered immediately. When Enjolras started to type it in he frowned. “Oh wait, _my_ favorite color? Sorry, I thought you were gonna quiz me on you.”

Enjolras looked up at him over the laptop and arched an eyebrow. “Why would I do that?”

"I dunno,” Grantaire said with a shrug. “So we don’t have to go over the things I already know?”

Enjolras pursed his mouth. “How much do you think you actually know?” He asked, sounding genuinely curious.

Grantaire shrugged again. “Probably a bit.”

A spark of a challenge lit Enjolras’ fierce blue eyes. “Really?” He said slowly, his mouth turning up into a smug smile. “Alright. We’ll give it one attempt.”

Grantaire grinned back at him. “Deal.”

“Favorite childhood pet?” Enjolras looked at him, confident Grantaire wouldn’t know. Hell, he wasn’t even sure if Courfeyrac would know, and he had been Enjolras’ roommate for two years.

Grantaire hummed. “Your aunt’s dog,” he said finally. “Frannie, I think? You liked her because she was really big and scary looking and she made all the other kids leave you alone.”

Enjolras blinked at him. He looked back down at the spreadsheet where he’d written ‘Aunt’s dog Francine’. “Favorite pet right now?” He asked, flicking his eyes back up to Grantaire.

“Jehan’s snake,” he said without pause. He laughed at Enjolras’ incredulous expression. “You bitch about him bringing it to the meetings but you’re pretty much the only other person who will hold him, and even Combeferre thinks it’s cool how he’ll wrap up around Jehan under his sweaters.” Combeferre apparently detested snakes, a phobia that the Amis had only found out when Jehan had arrived at one of their meetings with a small python.

Enjolras glanced back to the spreadsheet again though he already knew Grantaire was right. He was somewhat confused; he couldn’t remember ever talking to Grantaire about any of this before yet the artist was recalling the stories perfectly. He absentmindedly touched his teeth to his bottom lip while he mulled it over.

“Best friend,” he said finally.

Grantaire scoffed. “That one’s cheating,” he said, stretched his short legs out as best he could and stacked them on the table. He had to slouch into the sofa to reach it and folded his arms over his middle. “You don’t have a single best friend. I’d probably guess Courfeyrac and Combeferre as the closest but you’re best friends with everyone in your little boyband.”

Enjolras looked up at him. There was a moment of almost-understanding, a jarring implication that the only person he _wasn’t_ best friends with was the man he’d asked to be his pretend boyfriend. Enjolras stared at him and realized guiltily that he wouldn’t be able to answer a single question on Grantaire’s side.

He cleared his throat and set his hands on the keyboard. “Let’s just do you,” he said, training his eyes on the screen. “You can look over the printout later and see if there’s anything on my half you’re unfamiliar with.”

“Sure,” Grantaire agreed good-naturedly. “Fire away.”

It took them nearly an hour and a half to complete Grantaire’s side. Enjolras found things out about him that he never would have thought to ask; that Grantaire went weak-kneed for raspberry cheesecake, that his favorite color was gold because he could use it in his art in so many different ways, that he didn’t have a favorite grandfather because he’d never known either of his. Enjolras discovered that Grantaire liked listening to showtunes, as much as he would never admit it to Courfeyrac, that he considered Jehan his best friend and would smile whenever he talked about him, that in the shower he’d loudly sing Katy Perry’s latest hit just to hear the rest of the dorm groan.

Enjolras typed in the condensed answers as they went along but couldn’t help adding notes to a document he’d opened not two minutes into this. That was where he kept track of the details, the little things Grantaire said almost absentmindedly in the middle of an answer. There were over two dozen bullet points by the time they reached the final question.

“Last one,” Enjolras said, briefly looking up at him. “Greatest fear.”

He poised his fingers over the keys, used to Grantaire’s rapid-fire responses. When Grantaire didn’t answer right away Enjolras looked up at him again, frowning.

Grantaire appeared thoughtful, scratching at a spot of paint his sleeve had hidden at the inside of his wrist. It was in a vivid splash of green, sharply contrasted against his dark skin. “That’s a hard one,” he finally said, evasive, not meeting Enjolras’ eyes. “I guess just put down like, spiders.”

Enjolras frowned. He knew Grantaire wasn’t afraid of spiders because Jehan had five tarantulas in their shared dorm room, and Grantaire had painted portraits of all of them. He’d handled them fearlessly before, drawing while one perched on his shoulder in the stillness of a predator in wait.

“Are you sure?” Enjolras asked, resisting the urge to wheedle. “Spiders?”

There must have been a note of disbelief in his voice because Grantaire’s eyes suddenly snapped up to his. “Yes,” he said steadily. “Spiders.”

Enjolras wrote it down. In the document he recorded ‘purposefully deceptive over greatest fear’.

“Done,” he said with a tight smile, saving the document with a few buttons and then closing his laptop with a _click_. “I’ll print them off and get a copy to you tonight,” he said, already standing, tucking his computer back into his backpack and zipping it up. “Alright?”

Grantaire hadn’t moved from his perfected slouch. “Alright,” he said, watching Enjolras with hooded eyes. Enjolras frowned at him a second longer and then nodded.

“I’ll see you later,” he said over his shoulder. There was a big lump of something unfamiliar in his stomach, something that tasted uncomfortably like guilt. He nearly couldn’t believe that Grantaire had known so much about him yet Enjolras hadn’t been able to answer even one of Grantaire’s questions accurately. He couldn’t remember ever talking with Grantaire about any of these things; he must have merely overheard them, or gotten them filtered through friends, and remembered them with a clarity that Grantaire usually flippantly dismissed.

Enjolras was nearly to the door when he stopped. He glanced back, saw Grantaire pull his phone out of his pocket and, seized with a sudden desire to make amends for his own lack of knowledge, got out his phone too. He opened a new text to Grantaire.

Across the room Grantaire blinked when his phone buzzed. He opened the text and couldn’t help a confused smile. ‘ _Already miss you_ ’ Enjolras had sent. Before he could reply another arrived: ‘ _I figured we should start practicing boyfriend-texting now.’_

Grantaire snorted with laughter and sat up. _‘I don’t think thats what the cool kids r calling it_ ’ he typed, ‘ _but nice try. miss u 2 apollo’._

Enjolras’ replied, ‘ _Thanks. :)_ ’. Grantaire was so absorbed in his phone he didn’t see that Enjolras lingered by the door a moment longer before stepping outside with a pleased smile.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ah yes here I am back to this bad boy! regrettably I kinda forgot about this but then I uncovered my notes this morning and I went, eureka! I should write more, so here we are c:
> 
> uh I can't really think of any notes especially important to this. I will say that I have a legit seven chapter plan and now that I've found my notes again I'll try to get the rest of this cranked out! hope you beautiful people enjoy this chapter too!
> 
> tumblr is idfaciendumest if you have comments, questions or concerns c:


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enjolras' parents demand a dinner so they can get to know their son's new boyfriend. Enjolras drags his feet but Grantaire proves to be a natural.

The semester slogged on and Enjolras and Grantaire refined their boyfriend act.

Enjolras texted him daily now, sent him a coalition of jokes, stories, pictures of things he’d seen on campus. Grantaire always reciprocated and now, two weeks after they’d begun ‘dating’, they had a handful of inside jokes and stories they both knew backwards and front, like they’d experienced it together rather than through the interception of Snapchat.

Enjolras told his mother about Grantaire when he was certain it was working, and excused the two weeks wait by saying he hadn’t been sure he wanted his parents to meet him. (Despite Grantaire’s presence in their friend group for nearly two and a half years, he’d always shied from any sort of family occasions and came up with an alibi each time he was invited to one. His mother didn't even recognize his name. Enjolras wasn't entirely sure he'd ever used it before.) 

His mother then insisted on a dinner right away so she could meet him, and Enjolras fielded it by saying neither would be free until next weekend. After exacting a promise to attend and Grantaire’s phone number his mother hung up and Enjolras opened a new text.

‘ _We’re scheduled for dinner at my parents next Friday_ ’, he sent, collecting his backpack and his coffee and making his way downstairs.

Grantaire replied, ‘ _u sure i’m ready_ ’ and attached a picture of Jehan’s smiling face. They were in class together, apparently taking selfies. Enjolras had learned not to ask. (Grantaire was a mastermind of the sneaky selfie. He’d sent Enjolras a picture of him grinning near ear-to-ear hunched over a computer in the testing center, where phones were off-limits and getting caught with one was an immediate zero. He’d looked enthused about the possibility but presumably escaped unscathed.)

Enjolras paused on the stairs to reply. ‘ _It’ll be fine, they like you the sound of you already. And speaking of, my mother has your number now_ ’.

There was a near minute of silence, which was strange given Grantaire’s texting tendencies. Enjolras bounced his phone in his hand as he stepped outside, looked down at it as soon as it buzzed with an incoming text. ‘ _i’m definitely not ready 4 that_ ’, Grantaire had sent, and then a few seconds later: ‘ _i don’t know how 2 talk 2 parents :(_ ‘.

Enjolras considered that. ‘ _Just be yourself_ ’, he replied. He didn’t get an answer until nearly two hours later, when he checked his phone during the break in his Psychology class. Grantaire had sent, ‘ _that sounds like a surefire way 2 get them to hate me_ ’.

+++++

Enjolras picked Grantaire up outside his dorm that Friday in the car his parents had bought him for high school graduation; he was rather fond it, despite the irritable air conditioner and the way the seatbelts liked to constrict passengers. Grantaire had never ridden in it before, but he’d heard horror stories from all the others. He was wise enough to block the seatbelt with his elbow before it cinched.

“How did talking with my mother go?” Enjolras asked as he eased out of the student parking lot, careful to avoid the erratically parked cars.

Grantaire snorted. “It was alright,” he said dismissively, and he turned to look out the window in a rather obvious I’d-rather-not-speak-of-it gesture.

Their conversation was minimum on the drive, the silence filled mostly by the radio stations Grantaire fiddled with. Enjolras was surprised to find how well their tastes lined up and when he mentioned it, humming to a song he hadn’t heard in months, Grantaire laughed sourly and said, “That's because I’m picking these for you.”

After that, there was barely any talking at all. Grantaire was obviously nervous, which Enjolras didn’t quite understand; he’d always been an orator, an extrovert, and meeting someone’s parents would never inspire in him the anxiety it apparently did Grantaire. His mother had reported that Grantaire seemed very nice on the phone, and that his father was pleased to hear he was an artist, but Enjolras couldn’t settle on a way that made the remark sound casual so he kept it to himself.

Enjolras’ parents were rather well off, his mother being a lawyer and his father an accountant. Their house was imposing but not unnecessarily large; unlike most folks in their neighbourhood they’d started humble, and stayed that way. Grantaire though stared up at their home like he’d never seen anything like it, and Enjolras cleared his throat to draw his attention back to him.

“We’ll walk in holding hands,” he said, turning the engine off and unbuckling his seatbelt. “That way my mother can’t hover too much.”

Grantaire gave him a meager smile and nodded, and they climbed out of the car together and convened at the hood. Enjolras took Grantaire’s hand and, in a fit of camaraderie, gently squeezed his fingers; this time Grantaire’s smile seemed genuine, and it made Enjolras smile in return.

They were scarcely at the front step when the door opened and emitted a tall, pudgy woman with a delighted smile and clasped hands. She was darker than her son yet just as fair-haired, and when she pulled both into a hug Grantaire got a face full of gold-spun curls.

“Grantaire,” she said happily, squeezing him about the shoulders and then peering up into his face. “I’m so pleased to meet you.” She turned halfway back to the door and called, “Olivier, come see!”

His father arrived a moment later. Enjolras had evidently inherited his build from both parents, as neither were under six foot; Grantaire felt strikingly small around the three of them, especially when Olivier approached and towered above him.

They shook hands, though Enjolras grabbed Grantaire’s again the moment it returned to his side. Grantaire turned and flashed him a brief, relieved smile and then they were being hustled inside, Olivier quizzing Grantaire about what sort of paintings he did and Enjolras’ mother introducing herself as, “Just Élodie, dear.”

They all sat down at the table and Élodie uncovered a deep dish of pasta centered between them. As they spooned it out onto their plates Olivier said, “Your mother wants desperately to know how you two met, but doesn’t want to be overbearing enough to ask.” He laughed when she swatted at him but still, she turned expectantly towards Enjolras and Grantaire readily enough.

Enjolras blanked. He wasn’t sure how, or whose error it had been, but they’d never discussed how they met. He was a natural liar, certainly, but not to his parents, and there was a moment of curdling indecision when he debated coming clean—and then Grantaire intervened with a short laugh and a very convincingly affectionate tone when he said, “I’m afraid it’s a rather long story, Élodie.”

“We’ve got the time,” she said dismissively, and smiled when she handed Grantaire his plate.

Much to Enjolras’ surprise, Grantaire launched into the story without even a breath of hesitation. “He was wearing red,” he began, and Olivier chuckled because it was known between them that their son had an overbearing fondness for the color. “It was back in, oh, March? Enjolras didn’t notice me but I noticed him.”

Grantaire turned to look at him, and Enjolras offered his hand mutely like a good boyfriend would. He noticed Grantaire’s palm was sweating when he laced their fingers together and squeezed. “I kept seeing him around campus but we never really talked and then, one day, it just kind of happened; he was sitting alone in Subway and there were no tables left so he made room for me with this great heavy sigh.” Enjolras remembered this day now, recalled with a jolt that he _had_ sighed, even though Grantaire hadn’t actually asked to join him. “We started talking about our sandwiches first, and I have to say your son enjoys a strange assortment of toppings.” His parents laughed and Enjolras’ jaw clenched. Him and Grantaire hadn’t talked at all that day. Enjolras had ignored him in favor of his essay and the moment he’d finished his sandwich he'd gotten up and left.

“Then that was the moment, I guess. He was just looking up at me laughing after I’d teased him about his bell peppers and parmesan and I just kinda asked if we could go on a date some time right then and there.” Grantaire seemed self-concious finally, as the entire Enjolras family watched him. He cleared his throat. “Anyway he said yes and we went out on a date and now we’re here.” With his free hand he stabbed his fork into his pasta. “Guess it was shorter than I thought.”

After that performance Enjolras’ parents were smitten. They made him promise he’d bring Grantaire by again, and Élodie hugged Grantaire so fiercely at the front door that his toes left the ground for a second.

“Go on up ahead, honey,” she told her son, keeping one hand on Grantaire’s shoulder. “I want to speak with Gabriel for a moment.”

Enjolras paused until Grantaire nodded and ventured far enough down the sidewalk that he couldn’t quite hear what was being said. When Grantaire joined him a minute later he seemed oddly flushed.

“Is everything alright?” Enjolras asked, opening the door for Grantaire since his parents were waiting still on the porch.

“Yes,” Grantaire said shortly, and buckled his seatbelt and looked straight ahead until Enjolras closed his door again with a frown.

+++++

“Jehan,” Grantaire called as he came into their apartment later that night, kicking his shoes off with such irritation that they scuffed the wall where they struck it.

Jehan looked up at him from the couch like a startled deer, and jumped when Grantaire slammed the door. “Did the dinner not go well?”

Grantaire groaned and came over to flop onto the old cushions beside him, sticking his bare feet under the coffee table and digging his toes into the carpet. “Worse,” he said morosely, putting an arm over his eyes. “Enjolras’ mom actually liked me. You know what she told me before we left?” He lifted his arm so he could meet Jehan’s eyes, his own fierce. “She said, I couldn’t imagine anyone better for my son. How fucked up is that?”

Jehan pinched his mouth into a frown and pat Grantaire’s knee. “Well on a scale of one to Oedipus marrying his mom, I'd say twelve."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just stopping by to do another chapter, sorry I'm such a loser and haven't finished this yet ;3; I swear I'm going to, I'm just being so slow! I love each and every one of you c:

**Author's Note:**

> hello lovelies! I have returned (kinda/sorta/not really)
> 
> first things first. this work was inspired by a post by tumblr user puppytaire that read as follows: "Why aren’t there more fake relationship!fics in which Enjolras is looking for a pretend boyfriend to keep his parents happy or something and he suggests asking Grantaire and everyone immediately screams “NO!!!” at him and he thinks it’s because they’re an awful match and everyone else is doing it because it would genuinely ruin Grantaire, having that much of Enjolras while knowing it’s not real"
> 
> obviously it grew somewhat from there, but I should still cite their idea anywho since it kickstarted it all :D this is also something of a college!au because I have no self-control
> 
> continuously screamed shout-out to tumblr users kingofherrings, pbandshelley, goldfishtobleroneandamitie, and fuahahaha because they are all adorable and seeing them reblog shit makes me happy c: also title is from my irl friend Katie so all thanks go to her :D
> 
> tumblr is idfaciendumest, asks are open and I'm happy to reply c:


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